


7 Times Down, 6 Times Back

by redandwhiteroses



Series: Rocks and Water [2]
Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Reader Insert, Unhealthy Relationships, enemies to enemy lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandwhiteroses/pseuds/redandwhiteroses
Summary: Ransom Drysdale is the worst person you've ever met. He's hurt you more than anyone else ever has. Yet, here you are, playing house with him. To be fair, he did make it appealing. You play house with him, and you'll get revenge on a whole bunch of people who have hurt you.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Series: Rocks and Water [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713934
Comments: 18
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

The air is cold in Massachusetts. It stings your skin.

You’d gotten used to the weather in Texas. The warmth had been wonderful, and you’d slowly come to terms with the humidity. It was nice in a strange way, although there were many days where it felt like you would boil alive. Maybe you just liked it because of the heat.

The cold, though. It physically hurts you. You can’t help but wonder how bad it will be when it starts snowing for good. You look up at the overcast skies. They’re threatening to break out into something, but you’re unsure if it’s going to be rain or snow. You huff. It’s trite, but the skies look how you’re feeling. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment, and you don’t know if they’d be angry or sad. Or both. You turn your attention back to the movers. Once you were settled, you would find something to distract yourself. Part of you wants to find distraction at the bottom of a bottle, but you know better. You need to be sharp.

Besides, if you start drinking now, you might never stop. The world has thrown so many nasty things at you over the past six months that you've started to lose count. You don't know what you did to deserve it, but you know when it all started. It started when that fucking asshole Ransom Drysdale got out of prison and decided to make your life a living hell. Again.

Speaking of that douchebag. You can hear gravel being tossed into the air as your boyfriend speeds up the driveway. A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. The place had come with a gravel driveway, and Ransom had wanted to replace it with a paved one. You managed to convince him to stick with the gravel by pointing out people can't sneak up on you if the driveway makes that much noise. He relented at that. 

You don’t look at him. Instead, you keep your gaze focused on the house. God. The fucking house. It was a necessary evil for the plan; you had to move back to Massachusetts as a part of your little charade. After all, that’s what a loving girlfriend does, right? Gives up her whole life and moves back to the one place she never wanted to be again so she can be closer to her boyfriend. You huff and kick at some of the tiny rocks. You have to constantly remind yourself that it would be worth it. It would all be worth it in the end. Yeah, you’d be married to an abuser, but you’d get even with many more.

Originally, Ransom had wanted you to move in with him. You suspect so he could keep an eye on you. While the two of you were working together, it didn’t mean either of you trusted the other. He made it clear very early on.

“Since we’re doing this, we’ve got to be on the same page.” Ransom told you one night after dinner. He’d taken you out and then brought you back to his place. His place at the time was a swanky hotel room. “I know you don’t trust me, which is whatever. I don’t trust you. I bet you’ve been scheming this whole time, trying to figure out how to get out of this. You’ll play along with Blanc, but that’s it. I find out anything to show you’re actually working with him, and I go to the whole family. Not just Linda. I go to Walt and Joni and their respective little brats too.”

After several days of back and forth, you eventually convinced him to let you get your own house. The two of you had worked out an agreement. You got your own house since it made more sense for the charade, but he’d have a key and could drop in whenever he damn well pleased. Including when you weren’t home. Thank God he hadn’t put up a fight when it came to the type of house. You refused to call a glass cube home just because it was the latest in architectural design. 

You had been tempted to get a Victorian style house but decided against it. That felt like it would be rubbing salt into a very deep and nasty wound. Ransom had taken the loss of Harlan’s house particularly hard. Maybe that’s why you had the feeling that the house the two of you would buy when you were married would be Victorian. You decided on buying a Country French one since that was one of the few more upscale styles you liked without it feeling like too much.

Almost everything else about the house had been a fight, from the location to cost to the flooring. The only thing Ransom seemed to like about your choice was the land. You wanted a lot of land, and he was on-board with that. You didn’t question why. It bothered you how invested he was in your house until he explained that it was a part of the charade. He couldn’t marry down, could he? And you would be judged on your house, just like you would your clothes and your car and your hairstyle. You knew that would be the case, but it felt strange for him to say it aloud.

“Hey babe.” Ransom’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. He doesn’t spare the movers a second glance as he makes his way over to you. You smile at him. You hope it’s warm and soft, not reflecting your inner thoughts.

“Hey.” When he gets to you, he leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. It’s simple and chaste, an acknowledgement that there’s people around the two of you. He slings an arm over your shoulder, and you curl into his side despite yourself. He raises an eyebrow at that. 

“It’s cold.” You try not to whine. You can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses, but you know he’s rolling his eyes. His posture alone tells you that.

“Who knew Texas could turn someone into a wimp?” He laughs when you smack him, despite the exaggerated ‘ow’ he makes. The delight in his laugh is genuine. 

“Says the guy who can’t handle it being above 85.” You challenge. He pulls you closer to him, his attention turned to the house. He studies it for several minutes before nodding.

“Better than I thought it’d be.” Ransom concedes. You look up at him, trying to keep the confusion off of your face. You feel like that’s the closest you’ll get to him acknowledging you might have been right about something. He looks at you and rolls his eyes. “Don’t read into it. It’s not that deep.”

The two of you stand in silence, watching the movers unpack the truck and put all of your boxes into the house. You’re sure some of them have already started on unpacking the major furniture items. A cold gust of wind blows. Ransom shakes with silent laughter as you try to curl up even closer to him. Oddly, you get the sense that it’s not derisive laughter but fond. As if what you’re doing is cute. The thought makes your cheeks turn scarlet, and you try to angle your face so he can’t see it. 

“Too late. I saw you blushing.” He teases. His tone isn’t as mean as it normally is, though. Something lurks under it, like the fondness in his silent laughter. You’re in the middle of coming up with a witty reply when the head mover comes over to the two of you. You disentangle yourself from Ransom to talk to him. Your boyfriend, god you hated calling him that, follows.

“How’s it going?” You ask the guy, Dave you think it was. Dave seems fairly pleased.

“We’ve got almost all your boxes inside. Just a couple more, and you’ll be good to go.” He smiles. “Do you know which room you’re going to sleep in? My boys can go ahead and put those boxes in there. Make things easier on you.”

“There should be a master bedroom with a fireplace. Put it in there.” Dave nods and begins to walk away. “Thank you, by the way. This is the fastest I’ve seen this done.”

“Eh, nothing to it.” You can tell the compliment makes him happy, despite him brushing it off. Ransom raises an eyebrow once the man is gone.

“You’re aware we aren’t in Texas, right? No one here is going to pull a gun on you if you aren’t nice.” You frown at that.

“He’s doing a good job. People should know their efforts are appreciated.” You wrap your arms around yourself. Ransom slips behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, setting his chin on your shoulder. It’s the perfect picture of a happy couple. You want to vomit.

“You’re such a sucker. Always wanting to be nice to people.” He lets out a snort of derision. “Anyway. If they don’t have the bed put together, we’re going back to my place tonight. I’m sleeping in a proper bed.”

You try not to stiffen in his hold. “You planned on spending the night?”

“Duh.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girlfriend who just moved from butt-fuck nowhere. Of course I’m going to spend the night.”

“But there’s not going to be anyone paying attention.” You point out. “No one is going to be coming out here and taking pictures at 3 o’clock in the morning or whenever.”

“Aaawww. Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?” His words are barbed and tone mocking. “Tough shit. This is when people are going to be the most suspicious, so we keep the charade up this whole time.” He kisses your temple. “Besides, you’re going to want me around tonight. It might snow tonight. You’re such a wimp about the cold, you’ll want the extra body heat.”

You frown. He did have a point. If anyone had their doubts, and you imagine a lot of people would, this is when they would be probing. He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck. You’re too wrapped up in your thoughts to consider ulterior motivation. At least, you were until he licks a long stripe from your collarbone and up the side of your neck. You squeak and hit him out of pure reflex. He laughs, tightening his hold on you.

“Damn. You act like no one has touched you in forever.” Ransom pauses for a second. “How long has it been since you got laid?”

“Does it matter?” You snap, trying to push away from him. A delighted expression crosses his face.

“Okay. A while is clearly the answer.” His hold around your waist tightens even more. “Careful, by the way. People are watching.” At the reminder, you close your eyes. Of course he would remind you. You turn in his arms and place a gentle hand on his face. To the casual observer, it would look like you’re apologizing.

“This topic is not something I want to talk about.” You fight to keep your voice calm and even. He takes your hand, the one resting on his, and places his own on top of it. He threads your fingers before gently pulling your hand away. It’s all done with such gentleness that you wonder how closely people are watching.

“We kinda have to talk about it, though.” You can tell he’s trying so hard to not make a face. Your eyes narrow. “That whole topic is something a good boyfriend would know about. I’m just saying.”

“You really think someone is going to quiz you on that?” You arch an eyebrow, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He gives you a serious look in return.

“Yeah. Actually.” He lets go of your hand and moves to brush something off of your cheek. You keep your eyes on him, wary of his every move. “You’ll get it from some of the family ‘friends’. Namely their daughters. And I’m not too proud to admit it, but I have slept with a couple of them. So they’re going to ask you questions that you’ll only know the answers to if you’ve slept with me.”

“Okay? You can just tell me the answer. What does that have to do wi-” You stop yourself short. A frown makes its way onto your face, and your burrow furrow. You look down as you think. Of course. People loved to ask invasive questions, and if people are going to ask Ransom about the two of you’s supposed sex life, they’ll ask him as well. You have a suspicion that Ransom often bragged about his conquests, so people would expect details. He must see the realization in your eyes because he lets out an amused chuckle. You purse your lips.

“Please tell me none of your family will ask.” You finally say. Ransom laughs and pulls you close.

“The little neo-nazi will, but I wouldn’t tell him shit. Fucking creep.” You try to get more comfortable, which ends up with you burrowing into his coat. “My dad might. Which I hope he fucking won’t because that’s disgusting.” Ransom shudders, and you aren’t sure if it’s mock or real horror. It makes you laugh nonetheless.

“That’s really creepy.” You murmur. 

“You have no idea. He tells me about some of the women he’s slept with, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to gain my approval or if he wants Linda to know he’s doing fine without her.” He makes a face. You muffle your laugh in his coat lapel

“Like Linda gives a damn what he does.” Ransom makes a noise of agreement as he brushes some stray strands of your hair back. Despite yourself, you lean into his surprisingly gentle touch. You knew what he was doing, what he was trying to do, with all these small touches and long embraces. If you grew to like him, you’d end up sleeping with him. And the more he touched you, the more you would end up liking him. Well, you were more likely to fall in love with him, and that means you’d be more likely to sleep with him. You doubt that he cares whether or not you actually love him; it’s probably just a means to an end. 

Still, you can’t bring yourself to care too much. It’s nice. You’ve never thought of yourself as touch-starved, but you wonder if you are. It would explain why you don’t pull away from him. 

“Yeah. She stopped giving a damn when he screwed her over.” Ransom doesn’t seem bitter over the whole thing but amused. You feel like you should be surprised, but you aren’t. Of course it wouldn’t bother him. Part of you wonders if he even thought of them as together. You have to bring yourself back. That line of thought could become very dangerous very quickly. You push away from him, and he lets you. You don’t go far, though. You stay close, watching the movers.

They’ve just finished getting all of your boxes into the house when snow flurries start to fall. That would explain why you felt so cold. Dave ambles over to you.

“It’s done. Even had a guy get your bed put together.” He tells you. You nod, a smile gracing your face.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” The two of you exchange some small talk before you pay him. The men get into their cars, and they’re gone. You make sure to wait until Dave’s in his car and headed down the driveway before you turn to go into the house. Ransom is waiting for you by the door, an annoyed expression on his face. You make your way over to the door.

“For someone who’s done nothing but complain about how cold you are, you’ve done an awful lot of standing out in it.” You roll your eyes in response to his snide comment, opting to open the door instead. He slips in behind you. You close the door before looking around the space.

The afternoon is spent unpacking and familiarizing yourself with the house. Ransom is surprisingly welcome company. You forgot how lonely it could feel moving into a new house by yourself, so having someone with you is nice. His presence keeps you from getting into your head. Unfortunately, he doesn’t help much other than that. He certainly doesn’t help you unpack. If anything, he keeps on distracting you. You half expected him to take something and hide it when you weren’t looking. 

The snow is falling in thick flurries when you finish the bedroom. Ransom is lounging on your bed, watching you bend over to get the last thing out of one of the boxes. You can feel him staring at your ass. You give him a sour look over your shoulder when you straighten up. He just grins in response.

“What can I say? You have a nice ass.” 

“Don’t be crass.” You roll your eyes.

“Or what?” He challenges. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Yeah. I’m going to bend you over my lap and spank you.” Your tone is sarcastic. However, you instantly regret saying it. Ransom’s eyes light up as a shit-eating grin makes its way onto his face. 

“No, I do- That’s not what I meant!” Your words, or maybe your expression, make him break into laughter. It’s real and genuine. You can tell it’s the kind where he might start crying, he’s laughing so hard. You huff and cross your arms. You’re not actually mad; you have to keep on fighting the smile that wants to make its way onto his face. “Shut up!”

That sets him off even harder. You grab a pillow and lightly throw it at him. He can’t dodge it, he’s laughing so hard. It bounces lightly off of him. You jump onto the bed to grab it and smack him with it. There’s no power behind it; it’s entirely for show and playful. He lets out an exaggerated noise of pain. That breaks your front, and you start laughing. 

“Glad to know you find my pain amusing.” Ransom manages to sound somewhat imperious, which is fairly impressive because he’s still laughing. You make an indignant noise and go to grab the pillow again. “Oh no you don’t.” He dives for it. A small wrestling match ensues. He’s managed to get the upper hand, pinning you down with his body. He looks far too amused with the situation. 

“I think that you mi- ah shit! Fuck, don’t do that! That’s fucking cheating!” You were never one to give up easily. As soon as he starts to taunt you, you reach out and tickle him. The sneak attack works. He dissolves into helpless laughter that’s peppered with curses. Another round of wrestling ensues. This time, the pillow is long-forgotten. You manage to get him pinned by sitting on his chest and grabbing a hold of both his wrists. You don’t think about how it looks, just glad to have won. At least, you are until he raises his eyebrows and gives you a look.

“If you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was say so.” He laughs at the expression that crosses your face.

“Do you think of anything else?” You look down at him. Ransom has a thoughtful look on his face.

“Occasionally. Sometimes I think about death. And taxes.” You let out a snort and let go of his wrists. To your surprise, he lets you go when you move. You get off the bed. As you do so, you can feel it shift as he does. When you turn to face him, he’s propped up on his elbows. He’s watching you with a thoughtful look. 

“You hungry?” You ask. He shakes his head. “Well, I’m going to go make me some food. If you want something, you better say so now.”

You linger for a second. He looks like he might want to ask you something, but he doesn’t. You pad to the kitchen and quickly make something. The chef, god you can’t believe Ransom fucking insisted you get a chef, was starting next week. You make enough for Ransom as well. Something tells you that he’d just steal food off of your plate or whine until you made him something to eat. 

“Spoiled brat.” You murmur to yourself, although there’s no real heat behind it. It wouldn’t have mattered if there was since Ransom clearly wouldn’t be able to hear you. Once the food is ready, you take it into your bedroom. Your pretend boyfriend is still lounging in the bed. This time, the TV is on. You assume it’s some inconsequential, stupid reality show, but the narrator’s voice makes you look to the screen.

“Really? Forensic Files?” You arch an eyebrow. Ransom shrugs.

“Research for my novel.” He explains, motioning for you to move out of the way. Apparently you’re blocking his view. You roll your eyes and climb onto the bed. As predicted, he grabs a piece of food off of your plate without even looking at you. You huff before getting comfortable. The two of you watch the show in relative silence, occasionally commenting on something stupid the murder suspect did or what you would have done different. It gives a surprising insight into Ransom’s mind. It really only was because he underestimated Marta’s kindness that he was caught. 

One episode turns into several, and it’s around the end of the sixth episode you feel yourself starting to fall asleep. You have to shake yourself awake several times. Ransom looks at you, a smile playing about the corners of his lips.

“Is someone tired?” His tone is mocking, and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. Unlike you, some of us did work today.” You shift, trying to get comfortable.

“Go take a shower before you fall asleep on me.” He nudges you with his foot. “I’m not sharing the bed with someone sweaty.”

You grumble at him as you slide out of the bed and amble into the attached bathroom, making sure to grab pajamas on your way . It’s massive. You vaguely consider taking a bath in the garden tub before deciding on taking a shower. Thankfully, you unpacked most of your bathroom supplies. You want to take a long, luxurious shower, but you’re so tired that you can’t. 

When you come back, Ransom goes into the bathroom after you. You assume he’s getting ready. You try to watch the rest of the episode while you wait, but you end up closing your eyes before the end of it. The last thing you remember is hearing Ransom come back in. He turns off the tv before slipping into bed beside you.

You wake up slowly. You’re warm and comfy, and you don’t want to move. Something heavy is slung over your waist. You shift to try and see what it is. Ransom had thrown an arm over you in his sleep. The man in question makes a noise when you move. You turn to face him. He’s got one eye cracked open.

“Morning.” You murmur, your voice thick with sleep. 

“Morning.” He shifts. You think he’s going to get more comfortable or maybe bury his face in your hair. Instead, he lifts his head up enough to kiss you. It’s soft and sweet, and you can’t help responding. One hand comes up to rest gently on the side of his face. When he pulls away, you chase after him. He reciprocates, moving one of his hands to bury in your hair. It’s a slow, sleepy make-out session. Everything is gentle, and it feels nice. He rolls the two of you so he’s got you on your back. When he pulls away, you can’t help the sigh you let out.

Ransom looks down at you. His eyes are hooded, and underneath the sleepiness, you can still see the stirrings of lust. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” His voice is soft. He’s kissing you again before you can think too long on his words. As he runs one hand over the exposed skin of your midriff, you can’t find it in yourself to examine his words too closely. All you can think about is how his lips feel against yours, and how his touch lights you on fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back! Back again!
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long. Things have been more than a bit busy and hectic in addition to all the COVID bull, but I finally have another chapter for you all!
> 
> Here's the regular reminder of past rape/non-con and the aftermath of it. It's not talked about in specifics, but it is there. In addition, unhealthy and abusive relationships are on full display here, as well as talks of murder and suicide. You've been warned.

You can’t help arching into his touch. You hate that you do. You don’t want to, but it’s been so long since you’ve had another human touch you. Ransom makes a pleased noise against your lips. He encourages you, taking one of your hands and placing them on his chest. You let it rest there for a second before moving it down his pecs and to his abs. He’s more ripped than most people would think. His sweaters lend a softness to most of him. You think that might be why he’s so fond of them. It’s easier to get away with things when people think that you’re soft or harmless. He makes a pleased noise against your lips as you run your nails lightly over his skin. One of his hands is resting on your waist. That small touch sends warmth throughout your whole body. The warmth blossoms when he puts his other hand on your lower back. You can tell he’s restraining himself, as if he pushes for too much too soon you might leave. You don’t blame him. You probably would, plans be damned. It’s a weird space of too much but not enough, and you hate yourself for it. The hand on your back drifts lower. You don’t make a big deal of it. You pull away to catch your breath. You can’t look at him.

“Hey. Look at me.” Ransom takes a hold of your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Concern is on his face. You know it’s a lie. “You can tell me if this is too much. I don’t want to scare you.”

You want to believe him. You really do. You can’t think with him here, can’t get your head on right. Everything in your body tells you that he’s a liar and a cheat, but when you look at him. Your brain refuses to accept the facts. It feels like two different parts of your brain are fighting against one another. You swallow hard, trying to fight down a sudden wave of panic. It’s too much, you can’t do this, you should have stayed away, you’re stupid and foolish and-

The phone rings. You bolt upright, glad for the distraction. Ransom lets you go, flopping down with a groan. You look towards the nightstand and see the person is calling you. 

“I have to get it.” You tell him as you throw the covers off and grab your phone. You don’t know who it is. You don’t care. You’re just glad to have been saved by the proverbial bell. Ransom mumbles something. You finally look to see who it is. When you do, you groan.

“Fucking Joni.” You let out a world weary sigh. Ransom shifts so he’s looking at you.

“Don’t answer it, then.” He says it as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. You frown at him.

“I have to. I need to get ahead of this.” You tell him before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey girl!” Joni practically trills. You glance at the clock. It’s about 8:30. You have no idea how she’s so chipper. “I just finished my morning workout, and I realized that we haven’t spoken in a while. So I thought I’d give you a call.”

“That’s.. That’s really nice. I appreciate it.” You look to Ransom and shake your head. His lips curl upwards. “How have you been?”

“Good! I can’t complain.” She lets out that fake laugh of hers. It makes your skin crawl. “How are you? I heard you’ve moved back to Massachusetts.”

“Yeah, I did.” You cradle the phone between your ear and shoulder. You roll your eyes. This time, Ransom lets out a snort. You know this might be a long conversation, so you spad over to your closet and start searching through it. “Texas was nice, but it’s good to be back home.” The words taste bitter. 

“Ransom wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would he?” Joni sounds as if she’s trying to get you to tell some sort of secret. 

“I- Yeah.” You look at him. He’s laid back down, stretching languidly. “He did. I came back because of him.” The lie must be convincing because Ransom gives you a thumbs up.

Joni’s squeal makes pressure start to form behind your temples. “Oh, I am so glad you two worked out your differences! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. It’s just not been the same since you left.”

“Yeah. Ransom told me that it wasn’t.” You close your eyes, trying to will the headache away. You aren’t entirely sure of what to say. Not that it mattered because it was impossible to get a word in edgewise with Joni.

“He’ll never admit it, but he was so mopey.” Joni lowers her voice as if she’s telling you a secret. “Honestly, he was intolerable after you left. Just- I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him. No one could. It was that bad. I think that’s why Harlan wrote him out of the will.”

That makes you pause. “He didn’t tell me about that.” Your tone is intrigued. You slowly turn on your heels to face Ransom. The look on your face is in direct opposition to your friendly tone. “I’m surprised. I never would have thought Harlan would do something like that.”

Ransom bolts upright in bed. You start moving towards the door. You’re halfway across the room before Ransom’s feet hit the floor. 

“I know, right?” Joni exclaims. “None of us would have thought he would do it. I would say good for him, but, you know...” She trails off. You close the door behind you and head towards the stairs. You’re trying to not let on how fast you’re walking. The door to your room is flung open seconds later. 

“Is that why...?” You swallow and stop dead in your tracks. Ransom’s heavy footsteps follow you into the hallway. Joni makes a noise of understanding.  
“Well, I mean, it was a... a sucide.” She lowers her voice on the last word. “But the events leading up to the suicide had something to do with Ransom, yeah.”

You stand there for a long moment. You can’t react. You don’t know how to react. Ransom comes up behind you and takes the phone easily from you. You couldn’t have fought him even if you wanted to. You’re stuck in place.

“Hey Joni.” Ransom’s tone is curt. You can’t pay attention to them, can’t make them out past the sudden static in your brain. You knew that Ransom had been in jail because of Harlan’s death, but you didn’t know the details. You had never looked into it too hard. As a matter of fact, you had avoided reading about it. You knew you weren’t strong enough at the time, that the knowledge might very well break you. You’re vaguely aware of him walking away as he speaks to Joni. Something feels like it’s shaking. It takes you a good minute to realize that your hands are trembling. 

You can’t breath. You can’t stay upright.

You stumble over to the nearest room. Your legs can’t seem to work right. They’re heavy, and it feels like you’re going to lose control of them at any second. The door slams shut behind you. It’s hard to lock it. Your trembling fingers can’t seem to work, but you manage to get the door locked before Ransom gets near it. The room is mostly empty, a couple pieces of furniture placed around it. It takes you a moment to realize this was the room you were going to make your studio. You stumble over to the far side of your desk. Your back hits the wall with a loud ‘thud,’ and your legs finally give. You slide down the wall.

You don’t know why you’re trying not to cry. You’ve been crying since Joni spoke.

You realize that you aren’t so much trying not to cry as to not sob loudly. The first hiccuping sob makes you panic. You can’t stop it, though. One follows the first one, and then another, and then another, until you’re outright bawling. You sink down to the cold floor, wrapping your arms as tightly around you as possible.

A knock.

Your sobs cut off as if you’d been hit.

“What?” You manage. Your voice is thick and hoarse. You sniffle, trying to breathe past the snot that’s already begun to collect. He was going to know that you’re crying just from your tone alone. That nearly sends you into another flurry of sobs.

“Joni invited us to dinner.” Ransom’s tone is clipped. You’re unsure if the undercurrent of anger is at you or at Joni. You know which soon. “Fucking bitch.” Ransom hisses. It’s not as quiet as he thinks it is. Another thud, this time telling you he put his forearm on the door. “She wants you to re-introduce yourself to the family as some sort of fresh start. Some Dr. Phil bullshit kind of thing.”

“When?” Your voice is cold, distant. 

“Tomorrow night.” Ransom huffs. “And no, no idea what time. Said between 7 and 8, so who knows when. We could probably show up the next day and not miss it.”

The floor is cold, and your back hurts. You shift so it’s not pressing as uncomfortably along your spine. You aren’t sure if he’s being Ransom or trying to joke with you to make you feel better. “Alright.”

Silence. It’s getting harder and harder to keep the sobs back, but you can’t. Not until you’re certain he’s gone.

“She didn’t mention that she was cut out of the will, did she?” Ransom’s curt tone gains an edge to it. “It wasn’t just me. Harlan had cut us all out. Me, Joni, Meg, Jacob, Walt. Didn’t cut Linda out, but he made sure she knew Richard was cheating on her.” With every word, his tone becomes more and more bitter. “I did what I had to do.” The door shakes as he hits it with his fist. You jump, eyes scanning around the room. The window might be an option, if you really needed to escape. “I wasn’t going to let that old fuck keep me from what’s rightfully mine! I did it for my family.” He pauses. His voice softens. “I did it for you. So we could have a good life. You wouldn’t have to work anymore with the money.”

“Ransom.” You look up at the ceiling.

“Yes, dear?” His tone holds an edge to it.

“Eat a great big bag of dicks and choke on them.” You turn your head so you’re looking at the door. Your tone was no longer distant. It had the full force of a polar ice storm behind it. “Do not try to bring me into your fucking bullshit by claiming you did it for us. You and I both know that you are incapable of thinking about anyone other than yourself. You’d kill fucking Santa Claus if that meant you’d get all the presents!” With each word, your voice gains volume. You sit upright and face the door. 

“Oh? So I’m the only selfish one here?” Ransom challenges. “Because you have no room to fucking talk. You love to cast stones, but you’re more selfish than this whole family combined. You don’t give a shit who you hurt if it gets them out of your fucking way!”

“You really want to go there?” You find the strength to get to your feet. “Because I can guarantee you that you’re not fucking coming back if we go there!”

“What? Are you going to just up and leave again? Run away from all your problems?” You can practically hear him throw his hands up in the air, and it makes your blood run hot through your icy veins. 

“What should I do, then? Huh? Kill all my problems?” You challenge. “If I did, you’d be fucking dead! Your body would be tiny bits and pieces scattered all over the country!”

“Okay, Carol Baskins.” Ransom snaps back. Your head throbs. You feel like your vision is going to go soon. “At least I made a fucking stand and did something!”

“Which is it, Ransom? Do I hurt anyone who gets in my way or do I run away from my problems? Please, enlighten me, since I don’t seem to know myself like you do.” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It sounds more like a vile monster than you. 

Silence.

“I’m not talking to you if you’re going to be like this.” His tone instantly becomes dismissive. “If you’re going to be an unreasonable bitch, I’m not going to talk to you.” You hear him start to walk away. Red flashes across your vision. You know. You know he’s being dismissive and an asshole to get a reaction out of you, and you hate yourself even more because you’re letting him get that reaction. You cross the room in three steps. You unlock the door and fling it wide open. Ransom turns to face you.

“No. That... That wasn’t me being an unreasonable bitch.” You hiss. “You have no idea what me being an unreasonable bitch looks like. But you’re about to.”

Ransom opens his mouth to speak, A loud chime interrupts him. It’s the signal that someone is at the gate to your property. You pause. Confusion makes its way onto your face. You look at Ransom. He looks just as confused as you feel.

“Did you-?” You motion downstairs. Ransom shakes his head.

“Why would I?” He challenges.

The chime sounds again. You skirt past him and down the stairs to the monitor. A sleek grey car is in your driveway. The driver’s window is down, but he’s facing away from you.You press the button.

“Hello?” Your voice is hoarse but not terribly so. The driver turns around, and oh! 

Benoit says your name. “I’m terribly sorry to stop by unannounced. I was just in the neighborhood and thought that I might come see your new place.” He shifts in his seat.

“Of course!” You can’t keep the note of relief from your voice. Finally. Someone who was capable of reason. “I’ll buzz you in.” You pause for a second. “Before I do, I have...” You look towards the upstairs balcony. Ransom is leaning over it, clearly interested in the conversation. “I have company.’

“I figured as much.” Benoit doesn’t sound surprised in the slightest. “If he can behave himself, I do believe I can behave myself.”

You let out a snort. “I’ll let you in.” You tell him before pressing the button.


End file.
